


Pardon Me (while I burst into flames)

by Anonymous



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Abandoned Clarke, Caretaking, Consensual Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fluff (I guess), Like im not sure i know exactly what this is, Loss of Virginity, Neighbor Bellamy, Power dynamic kink, Smut, Teacher-Student Relationship, but Clarke is 17, but im trying, holiday fic, like immediate dirty smut, time jump (sorta)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-25 05:27:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21970663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Bellamy finds himself in a purgatory of sorts. Its a gentle, insistent torture this fighting temptation- it's a temptation that he thinks he shouldn't have in the first place. And it's definitely one that he can't tell anyone else about.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 29
Kudos: 170
Collections: Anonymous, Merry Glebmas 2k19





	1. I think about your face, and how I fall into your eyes...

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amantes_peccatum](https://archiveofourown.org/users/amantes_peccatum/gifts).



> Merry Christmas, friend. You know who ya are! ;)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bellamy will always take care of Clarke- and this time is no different.

_There are some moments in a person’s life where decision making is critical._

_In those moments, you have to put aside your own emotions, your own desires, and decide on what is best for the other person. One must decide on what is ethical, on what is right for society._

_So, on Christmas Eve, Bellamy finds himself in one such situation. while his seventeen-year-old next-door neighbor, Clarke Griffin, sits over his legs with her damp panties grazing his shins as she palms his erection through thin boxers and stares up at him with those crystal blue eyes._

_She has innocent eyes, he thinks to himself as she bites her lip. It's an uncertain movement that tells him everything he should need to know to stop this. And yet, he doesn’t._

_He can’t._

_She’s beautiful, smart, and wants this._

_Fuck, he wants this ._

_“So,” she asks, leaning forward to place a kiss above his hip bone. Her voice vibrates against his skin, low and breathy, and it makes his head spin almost as much as the feel of her warm center against his leg. With a small and adorable hum, she trails her little cherry red lips across his lower abdomen, as she does so, he swears he could die of impatience- and his muscles seem to agree since they are jumping with anticipation, while his nerves seem to explode at her every little touch, “can I? Please, Mr. Blake?”_

_“May,” he corrects, and when she stares back at him blankly, he elaborates, “I believe the proper way to say it would be, “May I ? Or Might I.”_

_Just as he says it, his mouth goes dry._

_This is happening, this is really, really happening._

_“You’re the teacher,” Clarke says as she lets out a little breathy laugh, leans down and mouths at his balls. Surprised by the feel of her lips so close, yet not quite close enough, Bellamy lets out a groan. And in a voice so low Bellamy almost misses it, she asks, “ Please, may I suck your cock, Mr. Blake?”_

_With a gulp, he threads his fingers through her hair and sweeps it to the side. When her blue eyes meet his own, he can’t help but give his answer._

**_Five Days Ago_**

It’s the last day of classes before winter break, and Bellamy can’t seem to bother getting out of the building any faster than he usually does. After all, what exactly does he have to go home to this year? His boss (and ex-fiancé) is now dating the new Vice Principal, and Octavia is still away on her first tour of active duty. No, Bellamy thinks to himself as he runs through his to-do list again, this job is pretty much all he has right now... and soon he’ll go home to a dark house, with no one to cook a holiday dinner for. There will be no one to enjoy a Christmas tree he hasn’t bothered to get or decorate. 

What’s the fucking point of the holidays, when he doesn’t have anyone else to spend them with? 

Briefly, he thinks about Clarke and Abby. On Thanksgiving, he’d invited the pair over, and it was fine enough. After the nice night they all had, Echo admitted that seeing Abby with Clarke made her realize she didn’t want that- a family, a kid, the holiday dinners. 

“Echo, I’m in no rush,” Bellamy had insisted. The idea hadn’t even occurred to him that Clarke had made her think of having kids- Clarke wasn’t a child, really. Bellamy had known her since he was in middle school- when she was just the annoying little neighbor girl that burst into the Blake home one day. It wasn't long before she stole everyone’s heart though, including Bellamy's, “besides, Clarke and Abby are no litmus test for a healthy mother-daughter relationship.” 

“What do you mean?” Echo asked, sitting back and staring at him, it was that blank stare. One that gave nothing away, and still told you she judged every word that came out of your mouth. 

“I mean, Clarke is more the parent than Abby is. That’s all. When we have kids, it won’t be like that.” 

“Like how you were?” she asked, her eyes traveling down to the ground, “Bellamy, I’m serious... There’s a reason why I’m a principal and not a teacher- I don’t like kids...” 

“Okay,” he said, making a mental note of the fact that her thoughts on the matter could change later. 

“and I’m concerned with how much you treat Clarke like an adult.” 

“Wait, what? What’s that supposed to mean?” Bellamy asked, picking up the wine glass from Clarke’s spot just as Echo’s eyes fell on it. With a nod toward it, she let out a sigh. 

“Think about it- you let _a student_ have wine in your house?” 

“Her mom was here!” Bellamy insisted, “and she’s been my neighbor since she was four!” 

“That’s what I mean... you treat her like family like she’s special.” 

“Clarke is special, Echo.” 

“And that is a problem, Bellamy.” 

“What are you saying? Has someone complained at the school or something?” Bellamy asked, trying to remember if he had slipped up and called Clarke a princess, or said something about one of her little quirks. Nothing came to mind. 

“I just-” Echo let out a rush of air, “be careful. That’s all.” 

“Well, your suggestion has been noted,” Bellamy bit back, angry now, “you don’t want kids, and you think I’m, what? Some sort of freak?” 

“No- it’s not- Bellamy, I don’t think that!” 

“Then what is it?” he asked, what the hell was she trying to say, _really?_ And as Echo turned red under his gaze, he realized it, “Are you... _jealous?_ ” 

And then came the truth, “Bellamy, I don’t think you love me. You get more excited about your neighbors coming over than me being here... it’s our first Christmas living together, and you didn’t even want to send out Christmas cards. I think we should end... _this._ ” 

“This?” he asked, “oh, do you mean our little engagement?” 

And that was the beginning of the end. Things were said, bridges burned, bags packed. With that, his longest relationship ended, and the woman he thought he’d spend the rest of his life with _literally just left._

It was only a week later that he found out Echo practically lived with Roan already. It seemed she had been fishing for a way to break up. 

_Whatever._

“Mr. Blake?” 

Bellamy looked up from his email he had zoned out on to see Finn Collins standing at his door, “Um, do you have a minute?” 

“For you?” _No,_ Bellamy thinks to himself, but takes a deep breath, “of course, what’s up, Finn?” 

With that, the young man pulls his backpack onto his arm, “it’s uh, about Clarke Griffin. I know you live next door to her...” 

“Yeah?” Bellamy can’t help but feel a tightening in his gut, “is she okay?” 

“Um, I- I don’t know. She broke up with me...” 

“Okay,” he nodded, non-committal as ever. 

“But I promised I wouldn’t say anything to anyone who would call the cops- I just... I don’t think that she’s okay.” 

“Look,” Bellamy said, starting to pack up his stuff, “let's go find the school psychologist, Kane should still be here-” 

“No!” Finn said, closing the door now, “Look, Clarke freaked when I told her I wanted to tell someone but, her mom has been gone for almost a month. There's no food in her house, she has money... but the power is out. Seriously, I have no idea what the hell is going on. But she doesn’t want me there, and I-” 

“Okay, I’ll check on her,” Bellamy said, speeding up his work, “thank you, Finn.” 

“I could-” 

“No, I think you shouldn’t. If she doesn’t want you around.... you shouldn’t.” 

The young man gave a nod and mumbled his thanks before he slipped out of the room. 

Making his way to his car, Bellamy thought about the last month. He had noticed some strange things... like the fact that the garbage containers at the Griffin house were overflowing with pizza boxes. That Abby’s car was nowhere to be seen- and that the lights at the home were often on late into the night- until this last week, when he hadn’t seen any on at all. 

Bellamy thought about Clarke, all alone in her house, possibly scared, taking care of herself. Clarke wasn’t spoiled, per se. But until her father died, she definitely didn’t want for anything. One time, when Bellamy was washing his and O’s clothing, Clarke giggled and asked him what the machine was. She couldn’t wrap her little mind around the idea of laundry soap and dryer sheets. When Bellamy showed her how static electricity worked, using socks and dryer sheets, she told him he should be a teacher. 

And then he became one. 

Truthfully, Clarke had always been a big part of his life. But since O graduated early, and went off to the army, Bellamy found himself unable to have an excuse to see her. His self-appointed role as a protector over her obviously fell to the way-side, and now he was wracked with guilt over this. How could he have not noticed how much she was struggling? 

Letting out a sigh, he pulled into his house, only to see Clarke on his porch. 

Well, at least talking to her wouldn’t be too difficult. 

“Hey, Princess,” he said, not missing the small smile that sprouted on her face, “you okay?” 

“Uh, yeah... I was just wondering if I could study at your place?” Clarke asked her eyes on the ground. She didn’t have to know that he knew... and until he knew more about the situation, he wasn’t going to push her. 

“Of course, Clarke,” he said, offering to take her book bag, “are you hungry at all?” 

Letting out a rush of air, her shoulders relaxed, and Clarke nodded, “I’m starved,” she said, sounding shy about it. 

“Hmm, well, what would you like?” 

Opening the door, he let her in. If he wasn’t mistaken, a look of familiar content washed over her as she took in her surroundings, “anything but pizza is fine by me,” she grinned, as she shoved off her shoes. 

Clarke wasn’t very subtle about needing to use Bellamy’s outlet to charge her laptop in order to write her entire paper. It was technically due to her English class the night before. But because she was Clarke, Ms. Diyoza had been more than happy to cut her a break and let her turn it in tonight. 

“Hmmm,” she said, finishing her reread, “my eyes are starting to burn. Bellamy, could you read this for me?” 

“Sure,” he said, grabbing the laptop, “can you check the lasagna?” 

As Clarke walked away, Bellamy couldn’t help but spy the open tabs in her browser. One was settled on an article that was titled, “Being Homeless in Urban and Suburban Areas: Tips and Tricks.” 

There was a list of things that you could do for free or cheaply while low on funds: things like showering, washing clothes, getting food... 

_Oh, Clarke,_ he couldn’t help but groan. Was the water out at her house, too? Jesus, the poor girl. What the fuck was Abby thinking? 

“What are you doing?” she asked, suddenly right behind him, “Bellamy!” 

And a moment later, she was closing the laptop, and packing up. 

“Clarke, wait... C’mon,” Bellamy said, trying to keep her from panicking, “I’m not judging-” 

Before she could get to the door, Bellamy found himself in front of her, blocking the exit, “Bellamy, please, just get out of the way!” 

“No,” he shook his head, “no fucking way, Clarke. Please, sit down, eat dinner. We’ll talk about this.” 

“There’s nothing to talk about!” she insisted, “I’m fine.” 

“Okay. Then dinner won’t hurt, will it?” 

Chewing on her lip, Clarke nodded, “yeah. Fine, but I’m only here for the lasagna.” 

“Noted, Princess,” Bellamy said, retaking her coat and backpack. 

Dinner was a quiet and strained affair. Every time Bellamy thought of some sort of small talk, Clarke would clear her throat or move just-so, making any potential conversation feel stunted and awkward. 

“Thank you,” she eventually whispered, “I’ve been eating pizza and school lunches all week. This is... this really nice.” 

Just as Bellamy realized she was about to cry, Clarke turned away. 

“Clarke,” he said, “what’s going on? You know you can tell me, right?” 

When she looked back at him, her eyes were red, but she was smiling, “it’s weird here, without O,” she said, laughing a little, “I miss her. I miss being here all the time. It’s nice here. Warm... cozy.” 

“Well, her room is still here... You can stay the night,” Bellamy said before he could stop himself. 

“Would that be... weird?” Clarke asked, her eyes flitting from him to her empty plate, “I mean since you’re like a teacher now.” 

“Clarke, me being a teacher doesn’t change that your practically family,” and then, after a minute, he added, “Finn came to see me.” 

_“Oh, god,”_ Clarke rolled her eyes, “what did he say? Did he tell you I broke up with him?” 

“Yeah, but what I’m more worried about is that your mom has been gone since Thanksgiving?” 

“You know, he cheated with me?” 

“What?” 

“Not on me, with me!” she said, clearly deflecting, “he had a girlfriend the whole time.” 

“Well, Clarke,” Bellamy said, leaning forward to grab her plate, “Finn sucks. Did you wanna take a shower before we watch a movie, or what?” 

He went over to her house after she fell asleep in Octavia’s bed. Finding the extra key under the turtle statue, he let himself in. Immediately, Bellamy was met with a putrid smell. Trying the light, he found there was no power, and turned on his flashlight. 

What he found was somewhat jarring: 

Dishes piled up in the sink, the power completely out. No water, no food. And he didn’t even dare open the fridge. Letting out a sigh, he grabbed a trash bag and emptied her clothing into it. He'd make sure to wash everything before she wore it. But there was no way he was letting her come over here if he could help it. In the morning, he’d call the power company and figure how much it would cost to get everything turned on if only to get this house cleaned up. 

After all, if the state saw this, Clarke would be taken away in no time. And he just couldn’t let that happen. 

Bellamy found himself folding clothes while watching tv for the first time in months. He missed it, taking care of someone. By the time he finished up his documentary, Clarke was in the hall drinking a glass of water. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asked, wondering if she realized whose clothes these were. 

“Actually, I slept well for the first time in weeks,” she said, walking over and sitting next to him, she noticed what he had been doing, “you did my laundry?” 

“Clarke, I’m not going to call CPS or anything,” he said, taking a moment to analyze her expression and a subsequent sigh of relief, “I don’t want you to be taken away and put in a group home. But we _do_ need to talk. Your mom, where is she?” 

“I- I don’t know. She said Las Vegas last time. She sends me money for bills and food... but I didn’t know how to pay the bills, and then when I figured it out, they were too high.” 

“That’s not your responsibility, Clarke,” he said, wrapping her in a one-arm hug, “you can stay here, as long as you need. Any money your mom sends, just hold onto, okay?” 

Clarke nodded, a tear rolling down her cheek, “won’t Echo be mad?” 

“No,” Bellamy said, shaking his head, “she and I aren’t together anymore. And she doesn’t have to know. If your mom isn’t back by the end of the break, though, we need to see if we can find her.” 

“Okay,” Clarke nodded, “for now, can I just sit with you?” 

Bellamy smiled and sat back. Before settling in, Clarke leaned over him and grabbed her sweatshirt out of the basket. It took a moment for Bellamy to realize it was one of his from Stanford. With a shy blush over her cheeks, Clarke put it on and settled in. 

Bellamy couldn’t help the way his chest tightened at the sight of her looking all cozy in something that was once his. How in the world had she even get it? 

“O let me borrow it once, and I liked it. Is that okay?” she asked, as if reading his mind. 

And now, it was his turn to blush. Giving her a simple nod, Bellamy let his lips press against her forehead. Pulling away, her cheek and hand made their presence known on his chest, and it dawned on him at that moment just how perfectly she fit next to him- and how much he wanted her to stay right there. 

Clarke likes to sing when she washes her face in the morning. 

Bellamy found that out in a somewhat awkward way. While he was showering, she came in and asked if she could pee. 

Well, the shower curtain wasn’t see-through... so, why not? The girl had to go- he shouldn’t stop her, right? 

And then she came back and started washing her face. As she did that, she began to sing Christmas carols. 

“Bell?” she asked as he started to wash his body. If she wasn’t going away, he was going to continue his shower. 

“Yeah?” he asked, trying not to convey any sense of awkwardness. If she weren’t so young, maybe this would be cute. But as it was, his sixteen-year-old neighbor was getting ready for the day, while he, her twenty-six-year-old teacher (and childhood friend’s brother), was naked and showering. The strangeness of it didn’t escape him. 

“We should decorate a tree,” she said, turning the faucet on and brushing her teeth. After a minute, she spat and rinsed, “it doesn’t feel like Christmas without those lights.” 

She was right, of course, it didn’t. And Clarke had spent enough years decorating the Blake family tree to know just how to do it. 

“Alright, Princess,” he conceded, “we have to go get one, though. And without O, it’ll be more work.” 

“As long as you buy me a hot chocolate, I don’t care!” she said, giggling as she flushed the toilet, and the shower water went from pleasantly warm to scalding hot for a few seconds. 

After getting ready, Bellamy and Clarke made their way to the local café, where he ordered a mocha, and she had a hot chocolate. 

“Hmm, maybe I should get coffee?” she asked, eyeing Bellamy’s drink curiously. 

“I thought you didn’t like coffee?” he questioned, taking a sip. After a moment, Clarke just shrugged. 

“I don’t know if I like coffee. I mean, what O drank was hardly coffee- it was more like motor oil with a teaspoon of honey.” 

She had a point- O did take her coffee in a rather disgusting way. And If Clarke’s mom didn’t drink it, then what exposure did she have? “Wanna try mine?” he asked, offering the Christmas themed creation. He didn’t miss the blush that graced her cheeks as her eyes flickered from the cup to Bellamy and back. Giving him a slight nod, Clarke took a sip. Then her eyes went wide, and she squealed in delight. 

“This is really good!” 

“Do you want me to ask the Barista to add a shot to yours?” 

Clarke gave him a nod as she took another sip and handed it back. Bellamy took a sip and thought about the fact that his lips were now where Clarke’s had been- and there was no reason why his stomach should swoop as a result. 

Getting the tree wasn’t trying really. However, the way Clarke stared at Bellamy as he swung the ax and tied it to the car had his blood circulating just a little faster.

Bellamy told himself it was just adrenaline that had his heart thumping harder in his chest- not the eyes of a beautiful woman shyly thirsting over him. When they made it to the cashier, Clarke made him wait for a minute while she grabbed a few things from the gift shop. After making their respective purchases, the pair went back to the car. 

“Have you been working out?” she asked, her eyes trained on the road before them, “you, uh, look like you have.” 

By habit, Bellamy found himself flirting, “you checkin’ me out, Princess?” 

It was too easy to let her nickname roll off of his tongue... and he just couldn’t analyze that right now. 

And then, she giggled a little before she turned toward him and smiled, “Maybe? Is that a problem?” 

Letting out a breath, Bellamy shook his head, “not for me,” he whispered, despite knowing that it was a very, _very_ big problem for almost anyone else. 

As Clarke strung up popcorn, Bellamy made some grasshoppers. After a half-hour of begging from her, he conceded and allowed her to have some Baileys and Jameson’s Whisky in hers, too. He would have said no, except her birthday started at midnight... and well, she had a way of guilting him into almost anything. 

“So,” Bellamy began as he untangled some lights, “what’s on the agenda for your seventeenth year?” 

“Well, get into a good college, of course,” Clarke started, “and you know, maybe find a boyfriend who isn’t a jackass.” 

“that shouldn’t be too hard,” Bellamy said. It was true, men could really suck, but Clarke was a great girl, and she would find someone amazing, “I’m sorry about Finn.” 

“Yeah, me too...” she said, and after a moment of silence, she added, “at least I didn’t do it with him. God, that would be a terrible first time.” 

For a moment, Bellamy struggled to respond to her words. The idea that Clarke hadn’t ever... that she was still a virgin made him feel a peculiar sense of protectiveness over her- but it was different than the sort of protectiveness he felt when it came to O... No, this was more like jealousy. Like the idea of someone touching Clarke would be enough for Bellamy to break their hand. 

“Look, first times tend to suck in general...” he said, “I mean, you _should_ find someone who it’ll be special with, but don’t let your expectations be too high. Especially if they’re inexperienced, too.” 

Clarke nodded as she focused harder on her needle and thread, “was your first time... good?” 

“For me? Yeah. For her? I doubt it,” Bellamy said, being completely honest, “I didn’t know what I was doing, and I’m willing to bet she wasn’t talking me up to her friends after. It took a while for me to learn how to be attentive.You should find someone who is attentive, Clarke.” 

It occurred to Bellamy just then, as he stood up with the now untangled lights, that the line of conversation had veered into a realm it shouldn’t have. As Clarke’s eyes remained steadfastly focused on the popcorn and thread, Bellamy cursed himself. Was there a chance that she thought he was suggesting that _he_ should be the one to do it? 

No, that’s not something that should even occur to him- and he seriously doubted it had occurred to Clarke. In fact, if she knew where his mind was headed, she’d probably be horrified. 

_He had to get his head on straight._

Because it was her birthday, Bellamy let her have one more drink (with half of the amount of alcohol in it), and suffered through some holiday-themed rom-com. If he was being truthful, he wasn't really suffering, since Clarke was pressed up against his side again, her stray hair tickling his collarbone as she fidgets on occasion. Finally, when Bellamy’s had enough of her squirming (and before he thought better of it), his fingers thread through one of her hands, and they both settle on his thigh. The gesture seems to ease her- he can feel her breathing... slow and tentative, as she makes no move to get away. 

Eventually, the movie is over, and the pair must say goodnight. 

“So, what do you want for your Birthday?” Bellamy asked because he’s always been good at gifting. 

“Hmmm...” Clarke gave it a moment before a shy smile graced her face, and she piped up, “how about a kiss?” 

Bellamy let out a little laugh before he leaned down and kissed her just below her hairline. Letting out a huff, she scolded him, “That’s not what I meant, Bell.” 

_“Clarke,_ ” he murmured softly, his lips still on her skin as he swallowed thickly, _“I_ _can’t...”_

Pulling back, she studied his face with all the seriousness a true scholar, “you can’t, as in _you don’t want to_... or you just can’t?” she asked, her eyes a desperate shade of bewitched blue. 

“I just can’t,” he confessed in a low voice, and much to his surprise, she nodded as if accepting his answer. But then, she rose up and kissed him softly on the edge of his mouth. As she pulled away, he instinctively followed- it was as if her lips were magnetic and his body wanted to follow. 

“Goodnight, Bell,” she said, pushing herself off of the couch and taking the warmth of the room with her as she left. 

As it turned out, Clarke could be rather appreciative of small gestures. Bellamy learned this the next morning as he made Belgian waffles, bacon, hash browns, and coffee (with lots of cream and sugar, for the guest). When he delivered her food to the table, Clarke stopped him before he could turn around. With a hug, she thanked him for all of his help. She confessed that she had been struggling and that it had been a relief to feel comfortable and at home again. 

Bellamy itched to thank her, too. What for, he wasn’t entirely sure. 

The two spent the morning in a certain domestic bliss. They worked on the crossword together, finished up the tree, and sent Octavia a Christmas card (late, of course). 

By midafternoon, Bellamy was struggling to fill the time, and that was when Clarke noticed the snow... which meant it was time to shovel. 

“You don’t have to help, Clarke,” he’d insisted to no avail. 

“Oh, c’mon. That’s still my house... I have to clear it up.” 

They each stuck to their own yards for about forty-five minutes. And, for the record, it was Clarke who threw the first snowball. After twenty minutes of hitting one another with compacted snow, balls started flying from other directions. 

Of course, the kids of Arkadia Elementary had come from all over just to ban together against the only adults actually having a snowball fight. 

“Get ‘em!” Yelled little Ethan Wisenczenski, and Bellamy was forced to run and jump over Clarke’s wall and huddle next to her for safety. 

“Truce?” he asked, his heart pounding in his chest as he observed her flush face. Giving him a nod, Clarke handed him one of her pre-made snowballs, “ah, that’s how you were throwing them so fast!” 

“A lady never tells her secrets,” Clarke teased, jumping up and hitting Madi Wylen square in the face, “You’re goin’ down, sassy-pants!” 

“Your insults need work,” Bellamy laughed, only to take a snowball in the face from Clarke herself. Before he realized what he was doing, Bellamy was holding her on the ground, and getting cold snow on her neck and ears until she yelled mercy. 

Once she did, he let her go free. 

And then, suddenly, _he_ _was_ _the one on the ground_ , with her on top of him, giving him a taste of his own medicine. 

“You brat!” he yelled, trying buck his hips so she’d fall off- but nothing seemed to work, “when did you get so strong?” 

“All of those years wrestling with you and O, I learned somethings,” she said, laughing. And then, with all of her strength, she pinned his wrists to the ground and moved down his abdomen, likely on her way to pin his legs. In effect, however, she grazed over his dick- which Bellamy had to shamefully acknowledge was now completely hard. As her eyes went wide, Clarke made a strange little noise- something akin to a moan, and settled there. 

“Clarke,” he warned, trying again to get her move. But instead, she clung to him, “Clarke, please, you need to get up.” 

Then she moved against him, and the friction was enough to make Bellamy groan. If he wasn’t mistaken, Clarke’s expression turned triumphant, and he had to fight every instinct in him that begged to pull her closer. 

“Get ‘em!” one of the kids from across the street yelled, and Clarke seemed to snap back to reality, allowing Bellamy to gently flip her and pull away. 

After the incident, it seemed that Clarke was a bit distracted, and they both lost terribly to the neighborhood kids. They promised they’d buy them Ice cream in the summer, and that was that. 

Bellamy attempted to stay far away from Clarke for the rest of the afternoon. There was definitely something that he wasn’t getting. Why was she acting so weird? There was no way that Clarke was attracted to him, right? For Christ’s sake, he was almost ten years older than her. 

“No movie tonight?” Clarke asked, standing in the doorway to the kitchen. She had a plush throw wrapped around her shoulders and was wearing a baby blue tank top and sleep shorts. 

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Bellamy admitted, studying Clarke as her face fell in disappointment. 

“Why not?” she asked, innocently enough, “I thought we were having fun?” 

“Yeah, it’s just...” Bellamy sighed, trying to find the words to say, “I shouldn’t do the things we’ve been doing... you know- cuddling and stuff?” 

And just like that, she looked as if she could cry. Staring at the ground, Clarke seemed to gather herself, “so you... don’t want me? Here, I mean.” 

“You can stay,” Bellamy tried to assure her. 

“But I made it weird? You’re uncomfortable?” now she was shifting on her feet as if this was something that she had been afraid of, and she was now planning to bolt. 

“No! No, Clarke, it’s not like that-” he said, getting up and brushing his hands over her arms lightly, “I care about you a lot. But there are some things... that, no matter how much I might want to do those things, I can’t. Because it’s not right. Do you get that, Clarke?” 

“You mean like kissing me?” she asked. 

“Yeah, like kissing you,” Bellamy choked as the words spilled out of his mouth. 

“Okay...” she said, voice cracking and her head shaking, “what if I take it back? Will that fix us?” 

_“What?”_

“When I asked you to kiss me... I take it back! See, now you can come back. I didn’t ruin everything, and you can come back, and we can just sit and watch a movie. It’ll be fine,” despite her words, Clarke was now almost gasping for air as if this entire train of thought had triggered something deeper. 

“Clarke, listen to me, you haven’t ruined anything-” 

“Yes, I did!” she yelled, breaking away from him and running to the door, “just like I ruin everything!” 

“Clarke, please!” Bellamy pleaded, following behind her. As her hand landed on the front door, Bellamy gently grasped the other, “Please, don’t go... I don’t want you to leave, okay?” 

As she continued her struggle to breathe, Bellamy moved carefully and wrapped his arms around her. He could feel the sadness and anxiety shiver out of her, as she finally let herself cry against his chest. 

“Shhh... that’s right, sweetie,” he soothed, “it’s okay. I’m here, it’s okay.” 

At some point, they ended up on the couch, with Clarke clinging to him as he cradled her. Eventually, her sobs evaporated into whimpers, and then she was completely still- with nothing but the sound of her steady breathing filling his ears, Bellamy laid back on the couch. 

After _whatever that was_ , there was no way he was going to push her away and make her feel so unloved. The whole situation was obviously a trigger for Clarke, and she seemed to have some severe abandonment issues. So, taking care not to wake her, Bellamy fumbled for the remote. After a minute, he found it and turned on some stupid adult cartoon. 

A few minutes later, Clarke stirred weakly. Seeking comfort, she slid between Bellamy and the couch, with one leg wrapped around his own, and her arm around his waist, she snuggled closer, “Bellamy?” 

“Yeah?” he asked, stirring from his own weak slumber. 

“Can I stay here?” 

Tightening his hold on her, he grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and placed it over them. Without thinking, he assured her, “mhmm, baby, you can stay.” 

“Bellamy?” she asked again, her body sliding up his and her nose nuzzling the crook of his neck. 

“Mhmm?” 

“I like it when you call me baby,” she whispered, before setting her lips against his skin. The kiss was over before it began, but somehow, her touch seemed to set his own skin aflame. As her fingers fished under his shirt, Bellamy stopped them- only to thread them through his own. 

“Good,” he whispered, letting his lips brush against her hair, “now get some sleep, baby.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter Title from the song "Echo" by Trapt.


	2. The outline that I trace, around the one that I call mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clarke seems to be a mind reader, and Bellamy gets a little closer to earning his spot in hell.

If he had called Clarke Baby just once, he could have blamed it on being tired, emotionally spent, and half asleep. But no, he called her baby twice.

_ Twice. _

And the second time after she said she liked it. 

He decided to shove those thoughts away for a bit since he was in desperate need of good sleep. But waking up to Clarke clinging to him, her hand stuck in the waistband of jeans, he’s confronted with everything he had been trying to avoid. 

She looks like an angel, her little lips gently parted as she breathes in and out against his chest. 

If it weren’t for the fact that her hand was almost in his boxers, Bellamy would say she was an angel. But he was starting to realize that Clarke Griffin was so much more interesting than that. Being careful not to wake her, Bellamy pulled her hand from his waistband, but let it lie against the warmth of his abdomen. There was something about Clarke’s tiny hand against his much boarder and darker frame that had him wanting more from her.

It was an image that spurred his imagination and made him wonder what she would look like, properly tucked against him after a good fucking- would she hum with happiness after their first time? Or would she cry, feeling angry and shocked by all of the things that he could do to her? 

No, he wouldn’t let her be scared or get hurt. He couldn’t,  _ wouldn’t  _ hurt her. If their first time happened, he’d be gentle and soft, he’d make sure to get consent at every turn. 

As the woman in question squirms against him, Bellamy is rattled from his thoughts. 

What would she think if she knew what was going through his head? Would she slap him? Punch him? Tell him he was a pervert and call the cops? 

Or would she try to kiss him? 

Just the thought of that made his blood turn warm. Lying back, Bellamy closed his eyes and let himself think about that possibility. What would it be like? Would he be her first kiss? 

Of course not, Finn probably kissed her... 

But he could be her first good kiss... he could be her first for everything else- if she wanted. Without giving it much thought, he let his fingers trace the side of her face, and gently tilt it toward himself. As he searched her features, Clarke’s eyes slowly opened, and a smile formed on her tempting lips.

“Hey,” she whispered, as if in disbelief, “I thought you would have left me here.” 

“No. I didn’t want you to wake up alone,” Bellamy said in all honesty, “I told you, I’m here.” 

At that, her hand came up to take his own. As Bellamy watched her, she turned her face into his hand and kisses his palm lightly, “thank you,” she whispered, snuggling her cheek into his hand again, “for everything.” 

Watching her closely, Bellamy let his thumb graze her bottom lip and make a trail down the column of her neck, as he whispered, “of course, baby... anything you need, just let me know.” 

Bellamy only hoped that the slight shiver and her contented sigh was a good omen for them.

Eventually, Bellamy fell asleep with Clarke curled more and more into him. When the alarm on his phone went off, his eyes popped open to find her half on top of him. Her head was tucked under his chin, and her hand was threaded through his hair. 

Of course, Bellamy was holding her, too. With both hands linked around her waist, pressing her ever closer. As he took in the scene, he had to admit it seemed as if they had been clinging to one another all night- and that thought _ did things to him. _

“Clarke?” he asked, trying to see if she was awake or not, “hey, princess, I have to get up.” 

“Baby,” she mumbled, her hand slipping from his hair to his neck, and holding it lightly, “call me baby.” 

Swallowing thickly, Bellamy knew if he played this game it was going to get dangerous, “Clarke... last night when I said that- I shouldn’t-”

“But you want to, don’t you?” she asked, her hand was now moving up and down his neck, as if she were soothing him, telling him everything would be alright, “it’s okay, I’m seventeen. That’s the age of consent in our state...” 

“But that doesn’t change that I’m still a teacher at the school you go to, that I’ve known you since you were-” 

“Bell, stop,” Clarke said, pushing herself up to look down at him, “don’t torture yourself.” 

“How can I not?” he asked, his eyes searching hers and falling from her face to her neck, and then to her shoulder where the strap of her tank top was falling down, “I don’t think I’m a very good person anymore.” 

“What if I don’t want you to be good?” she asked, “what if I want you to call me baby... and to touch me, and to-” 

_ “Clarke,” _ he warned because this is where he was supposed to stop her, to warn her. This is was the turning part of the story, the point of no return, “you need to-” 

He was going to say stop, but then Clarke grabbed his hand and moved it- and now he was cupping her warm center through her shorts. Pulling the blanket away, she looked down to watch herself grind down on his hand. As she let out a little gasp, Bellamy felt his cock twitch, as if telling him to shut up and go with it. 

“C’mon, Bell,” Clarke said, one of her hands on the curve of his neck again, and the other threading through his hair, “I’ve never- no one’s ever touched me there before.” 

“and you want... me to-?” he asked, pressing one of his fingers against her soft pussy lips. What he wouldn’t do to slide his fingers under her shorts, and feel how wet she was...

“Mhmm,” she moaned, grinding down his hand again, “I just- I want to know if you can make me feel good.” 

He could make her feel so good, god knows he could. 

And well, it wasn’t sex... _no, not really._

“You can’t tell anyone,” he said before he could talk himself out of it, “I mean no one. Not even your little friends at school.” 

“I won’t. I promise, I’ll be good,” Clarke said, leaning back so that Bellamy had more space to move between them. 

“Okay,” Bellamy smiled, looking between them at his hand cupping her, “pull your shirt up a little, baby.” 

Clarke nodded and pulled her tank up to her ribcage. In a moment of weakness, Bellamy watched his hand travel up the slight curve of her waist and sweep down her perfectly flat stomach. Making it to her belly button, Bellamy noticed a piercing there. It was a small cubic zirconium stud, “you’ve been naughty, haven’t you, baby?” he asked, flicking the stud. 

“O actually did it, before she left.” 

_ Fuck. _ He hadn’t even considered how his little sister would feel about all of this... 

“And what would your best friend think about you seducing her older brother?” Bellamy asked before he could stop himself, the wrongness of it all was starting to make his head spin- just as it made his cock throb.

“Well, she’d probably slap me. Tell me what I’m doing is unforgivable,” Clarke said, squirming as her little hand tried to push his own closer to her shorts, “but she doesn’t have to know, right?” 

“No,” Bellamy said quickly, “she doesn’t.” 

And with that, Bellamy let his fingers travel closer to her waistband. Tapping her skin, he thought out-loud “What do you want?” 

“I- I  wanna know what it feels like. To orgasm,” she admitted shyly, with her face half-buried in the crook of his shoulder.

“No one ever made you come?” Bellamy asked, teasing her now, “your little boyfriend never went down on you, never got his fingers inside you?” 

Clarke shook her head, “he was more focused on... himself.” 

“Well,” Bellamy said, his fingers now dipping under her shorts to tease the wet seam of her pussy, “now, that’s just selfish, isn’t it?”

As Clarke let out a strangled “uh, huh,” Bellamy pressed a finger into her mound. Really, he would have loved to go down on her. But at least like this, he could watch her face as she came for the first time. After a minute of exploring her, his fingers found her clit. Carefully, he tapped two of his fingers against her. Clinging to him, Clarke let out a small cry, and Bellamy looked up to find her face flush and her jaw hung open in  surprise . 

“That okay?” he asked, not wanting to push her.

“Yeah, it was just surprising... it felt good, though.” 

“Okay,” Bellamy said, kissing her on the forehead, “do you want me to make it feel even better?” 

Biting her lip, Clarke nodded.

“Okay, you can stop me at any time. I won’t be mad, Clarke. This is about you, and if you don’t want it- then I’ll stop.” 

Again, she nodded, this time she made a face of stubborn determination- as if her body wouldn’t get the jump on her again. And as Bellamy let his fingers open her lower lips, he had to fight the urge to kiss her or ask to see her tits. This was wrong enough- there was no way any of those other things were happening. 

He was gentle with her, as his middle finger tapped her entrance. Understanding the question, Clarke’s fingers tightened around his arm, and she nodded. Carefully, Bellamy slid his finger into her tight little pussy, “oh, god,” he groaned, closing his eyes at the feel of it. She was so warm, wet and wanting. As her breathing sped up, Clarke clamped down on him like she was greedy for it, and Bellamy could hardly hold back, “you feel perfect, baby.” 

“mmm...” she moaned, her hips shift against his hand, trying to get something against her clit, no doubt. Careful not to overdo it, Bellamy started moving his finger in and out of her slowly, rotating it as he did so, so she could feel the difference. The more he moved, the wetter she got, and the more her tight muscles loosened up and let him in. After a few minutes, Clarke was moaning and dragging her hips against his hand faster and faster. 

“That’s right, baby,” Bellamy whispered, letting another finger slip into her, as his palm rested against her swollen clit, “just fuck yourself on my fingers... make it feel good.” 

“Oh,” she moaned against his neck, her hot breath making his cock ache against his pants, “it feels so good.” 

Bellamy watched as her hand pulled her tank up more and covered her naked tit. For just a fraction of a second, Bellamy saw her nipple, and his groan was enough to startle Clarke out of her trance. As her hand moved away, Bellamy turned her so he could see her face and her body, “keep going,” he encouraged, “do what you need to.”

Clarke nodded, biting her lip as she moved to pull her tank off-

“No,” Bellamy said, stopping her, “leave it on. Just play with your tits, if you want.” 

With her blue eyes on his, she did what he suggested- her hands pressing and squeezing her own tits as they spilled out of her grasp. When her eyes closed, her mouth tipped open and Bellamy watched as her facial expression grew more and more desperate. All the while, his fingers fucked into her harder and faster- until her pussy fluttered desperately around him as if begging him for  _ more, more, more. _

When he was done, Clarke’s legs clamped closed and her hands flew over her face while she giggled.

“Are you-” Bellamy started to say something as the full reality of what had just happened crashed down on him. As it did, he reached over to pull down Clarke’s tank top and cover her up, “are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” she said, smiling lazily, “I- I need a nap... but it was good, really, really good.” 

“Okay, I have to get ready for a Christmas Eve party. I’ll make something for you to eat tonight before I leave. I’m  gonna go shower though,” Bellamy said, ashamed to be leaving her alone right after her first orgasm, but if he didn’t take a cold shower, he was gonna go insane.

“Okay, I’ll wait up for you,” Clarke murmured, turning into the blanket (which maybe even smelled of him- that thought made his heartbeat even faster), “Don’t be out too late, Bell.”

“I’ll try not to be,” he said, smoothing her hair out of her face as he watched her fall asleep. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The title is another line from "Echo" by trapt.

**Author's Note:**

> story title from Incubus' song, "pardon me".


End file.
